"A glass of whiskey please!"
You shout.
You want him to hear you, to hold you for the longest time and ask you to stop.
Stop drinking,
Stop crying,
Stop feeling.
"Stop," you whisper.
Eyes closed, hands covering your ears.
The deafening noise turns into aching silence.
You're back, lying down in your unmade bed.
There's a red shirt beside you, you don't even know who it belongs to.
